Private Detectives
by seffydude
Summary: Sam Vimes is pitted against Ankh Morpork's most famous Super-sleuth, Sheerluck Combs and his trusty sidekick, Doctor Flotsam. Featuring a plethora of your favourite Discworld characters.
1. Chapter 1

Private Detective

Private Detective.

Disclaimer.

The Discworld and all its regular characters and places therein belong to a Literary Genius by the name of Terry Pratchett. I don't, nor do I claim to, own any of them. I just borrowed them for a while and promise to put them back safe and sound when I've finished. As for payment for this story, I wish!!

Private Detective.

Down on the Ankh basin, where the waters of the River Ankh flows in from the sea before quickly wishing that it hadn't, a thick grey fog rolled slowly over the area like a shroud, just one with patches of green and yellow in it. A closer inspection would have revealed a few more colours in various hues, but no one was quite 'that' brave. From the dockyard came a deep, almost mournful bellowing sound that drifted out over the gently lapping water.

"Sorry!" Came a voice from out of the multi-coloured haze. "Anchovies! They do it to me every time."

Welcome to the Discworld. Drifting slowly through the Cosmos on the backs of four giant Elephants which, themselves, stand atop the shell of the huge Star turtle, the Great A'tuine as they join him on his never ending journey across the Multiverse.

And now, Hallowed reader, join me as we rise above Great A'tuine, glide gracefully past two of the massive Mastodons on his meteor-pocked back, plunge headlong through the Rimfalls like a Stellar Log flume to rise in a majestic arc high above the blue-green panorama that is the Disc. From here, right in the center of the Disc, we can see the ten mile high spire of Cori Celeste, where can be found the mighty halls of Dunmanifestin, home of the Gods. But that is a destination for another story. For now, we bank sharply to Portside (that's to the right for you and me) and dive, dive until we skim the waters of the Endless Sea and speed along, past the Ankh basin and its Anchovy-fuelled foghorn and follow the depressed and heavily sedated waters of the River Ankh to our ultimate destination.

The sprawling Metropolis of Ankh Morpork.

If ever there was a bigger hive of villainy and deceit, it would have already appeared in a science fiction movie. One with a big bad guy all dressed in black, who breathes like a sixty a day smoker out for a jog and talks through an empty vase, a movie where the innocent looking good guy always wears white clothes that never stains and has a silly name like Cloudjumper or Windrunner. But it hasn't. For this is Ankh Morpork, the biggest and best argument against Multiculturalism in the history of arguments. Ankh Morpork, prided upon by the ruling class, preyed upon by all the rest. The shining jewel of the Morpork Plains.

Just don't ask where the glowing shine comes from.

No, really. Don't.

Yet, here in the wonder of modern civilisation (1), tragedy is never far away. Even here, on the good side of the river (2). Here, Hallowed reader, is where our story truly begins.

The call had come to Pseudopolis Yard of a foul murder in the heart of Ankh Town, the rather upper-class portion of the city. Indeed, many of the more well to do citizens of Ankh Morpork had houses in Ankh Town, including one very irate Commander.

"CARROT!!" Shouted Vimes, his face turning from red to purple as his fingers flexed with murderous intent of their own.

Captain Carrot's shoulder appeared from inside a side room, followed not long afterwards by his rather handsome head and face. Everything about Carrot screamed vitality. "Outside, in the yard, in five sir." Said Carrot in a voice that couldn't spell 'excitement', let alone be infused by it.

"Make it three!" Replied Vimes in a growl. "And bring Cheerie. And Angua. Oh, and have Detritus and his Troll recruits ready on call!"

From the tea room downstairs came a loud 'CLANG'. Both Vimes and Carrot reacted together.

"NO SALUTING WITH YOUR HELMET ON!!"

From the tea room downstairs came the sound of a loud 'CRUNCH'.

Vimes raised his eyes to the ceiling. "It's a wonder he's not give himself a concussion yet." He said to no one in particular as he swept up his helmet and night-stick and stalked out the door. He took the stairs two at a time as he hurried down them and, as he was passing, stuck his head in the tea room. "Get your recruits ready to leave as soon as you're called. And bring your crossbow."

Sergeant Detritus, the Watch's very first troll and now leader of the Troll Recruitment drive, was about to salute but suddenly stopped. "But you said I weren't to use dat fing cos it a menace to society sir?"

"Yes, well..," said Vimes, both flustered and trying to think on his feet, "don't do what I said and just do what I say. Alright?" He was about to turn away when he suddenly turned back to Detritus. "AND DON'T… salute. I swear you're gonna knock yourself into next week if you carry on." With that, he turned and stormed outside.

In the middle of the yard, a horse was already waiting patiently with the Watch's cart being hooked up behind it. The day became noticeably brighter, which was a sure sign that Captain Carrot's gleaming breastplate was somewhere near by. Sure enough, he came around the corner closely followed by two Watch'women'.

With long flowing blonde hair and legs that went on forever, Sergeant Angua was the Watch's worst kept secret. Everyone knew that the Watch had a Werewolf in its ranks and the criminal population (3) were not very happy about it. Using sniffer dogs that could tell you where a suspect had gone was one thing, but using one that could tell you what the suspect looked like, was dressed in and what he'd had for lunch was quite another. She was also dating Captain Carrot and to describe them as 'The Golden Couple' would raise Gold's ego to new heights of insufferability. Even some of the Gods were jealous.

Behind Angua came Corporal Cheerie Littlebottom (pronounced Sherry). Although not the first Dwarf to join the Watch, Cheerie was the Watch's very first Crime Scene Investigator. What she could do with a chemical potion or a fine powder would have any self respecting Wizard and Witch running screaming for the hills. She had even given her art a name, Dwarvish of course. She called it Fourentzicz. However, she was the first Dwarf in the Watch to overtly declare her feminism(4), though she did still hold to certain Dwarf customs. Her leather battle skirt could turn aside any arrow or sword thrust and she did still wear iron boots, just ones with a four inch heel.

Commander Vimes waved them over irritably. "Alright, here's the brief so pay attention. At sometime between ten and midday today, Squire Osgood was murdered in his own house in Ankh Town. Right in the middle of my own bloody neighbourhood for Gods sake. We need to get down there and make our presence felt. I want this done by the numbers. This will be a high profile case and I don't want any mistakes, understand?"

"Yes sir!" Replied the three Watchmen.

"Right, let's get down there before…!"

Carrot interrupted. "We already have some men on the scene, sir."

"What? Damn that was fast. Who..?" Vimes' face suddenly looked crestfallen. "Oh no, no no no." He said, shaking his head.

Carrot nodded solemnly. "Yes sir, Corporal Nobbs and Sergeant Colon."

_(1) It's a wonder any of them survive it._

_(2) Across the Multiverse, the saying is 'On the good side of the tracks', meaning a moral boundary that is both solid and immovable, such as railway tracks. In the case of the River Ankh, river and tracks are pretty much the same thing, one being as solid and immovable as the other._

_(3) Which happened to be 'most' of the population._

_(4) Which had raised a few heads in the Dwarf community, some of them to just over four feet._


	2. Chapter 2

Squire Osgood stood over the corporeal remains of himself and stared down

Squire Osgood stood over the corporeal remains of himself and stared down. "Would you look at that. Right through the spine, I never felt a thing."

"YOU SOUND ALMOST PROUD." Said Death from beside him.

"Well, I am. That's quality that is." Osgood turned around and saw who he was talking to for the first time. "Well, blow me down with a Stronginthearm bellows. It's you!"

"YES," replied Death, "IT USUALLY IS AT THIS POINT IN ONE'S LIFE. AHAHA." Death still hadn't mastered the art of laughing without actually 'saying' the laugh.

"Squire Wilberforce Osgood at your service. Pleased to meet you." Said Osgood as he thrust out his hand towards Death.

Death looked down at the hand as though it might suddenly explode. There weren't many things in his work that had any originality any more and, when they did pop up, Death liked to make a bold statement about them. "THIS IS NEW." He Held out his own bony appendage and Osgood shook it vigorously. Death frowned (1). "ERM, JUST TO CLARIFY, YOU DO KNOW WHO I AM?"

"Oh yes." Replied Osgood cheerfully. "I've seen images of you in wood carvings. After all, there aren't many knocking around that could be mistaken for you."

"ACTUALLY, YOU'D BE SURPRISED. EMBALMING FLUID ISN'T WHAT IT USED TO BE."

Osgood looked around. His body, his world, had disappeared and had been replaced by a dark world of black skies, black gritty sand and dark forbidding hills. "So, this is the land of the dead is it?" He said, somewhat dubiously. He scuffed the sand with the apparition of his boot. "I made my name in Cabbages back home. Dare say there's not much call for Cabbages here."

"I WOULDN'T KNOW. I SELDOM REMAIN ONCE MY WORK IS DONE." Death was now holding the long handle of his scythe. Suddenly, the scythe head sprang out with a 'TSIIING'.

Osgood nodded his head slowly. "I see. Better places to go I expect?"

Death swung the scythe. "AS DO YOU, SQUIRE WILBERFORCE OSGOOD."

As he began to slowly fade away, Osgood smiled at Death. "Now that was quality that was."

Death leaned on the handle of the scythe and stared at the space where Squire Osgood had been standing. There were only three other people who had ever been pleased to meet him before, and War, Pestilence and Famine didn't count. There was a loud 'TSIIING' sound as the scythe blade shot back down and Death just managed to duck his head out of the way. "BUGGER!"

(1) Which was a neat trick for a skull


	3. Chapter 3

Baker Alley in Ankh Morpork was famous for two things. Firstly, it was the home of the bakers of the deadliest Dwarf bread in Ankh Morpork. Their flat bread had the smoothest surface of any lethal throwing object to be found on a battlefield and, therefore, had the longest range. Their paninis could also club a Troll into unconsciousness with only a couple of well placed blows. Baker Alley was also famous for the occupant of apartment 221B. An occupant who, at this very moment, is staring out of his window while engrossed in making 'the' most awful caterwauling sound with a violin.

Sheerluck Combs was a rather lean man who stood just over six foot tall. His dark hair was beginning to thin slightly on top and his habit of greasing it down just made his angular face seem all the thinner. Dark, piercing eyes didn't really help either, nor did his badly broken nose that he hadn't had set properly so that it now protruded from his face like some extinct bird's fat beak. He had also taken to wearing white shirts with beige checked waistcoats and matching trousers. As well as a bizarre looking Deerstalker hat.

In beige check.

Sitting in a large comfy chair on the opposite side of the room sat Combs' companion and life-long friend, Doctor Flotsam. Flotsam was an elderly gentleman in his late fifties. His mousey brown curly hair was now turning more to grey than brown. His craggy face had a pair of blue eyes that still managed to twinkle behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and he kept his greying moustache very neatly trimmed. Although also partial to white shirts, Flotsam's choice of clothing was more in keeping to a man of his age and profession. He wore tailored suits.

"I say Combs," said Flotsam while lowering this mornings edition of The Times, "is it really necessary to torture that thing further? I dare say if it's got a tune in it, you would have wrung it from the poor thing by now."

Combs turned to Flotsam. "Practice makes perfect, my dear Flotsam."

"Oh, really?" Replied Flotsam. "Well, carry on then, you need all the practice you can get by the sound of it."

Combs suddenly stopped 'playing' and lowered the violin while raising his head slightly. "We have a visitor, Flotsam. A young woman I'll warrant, wearing a blue dress with boots to match the fashions of the day. A woman of breeding too, judging by her walk."

There was a tentative knock at the door and Flotsam stared at it before turning a surprised look on Combs. "Preposterous! How can you possibly know all that?"

"Telemetry my dear Flotsam." Said Combs.

"Elementary Combs." Replied Flotsam. "The word is Elementary."

"Whatever. I could tell by the sound of her footfalls on the wooden staircase outside our door. They belied her graceful movements and feminine step."

"And her blue dress?"

"I saw that when she got out of her coach a moment ago." Replied Combs. He quickly continued. "Well, don't stand there dawdling old chap. Let her in."

Flotsam stood and moved to the door while Combs placed the violin in its case. Flotsam showed the young woman in.

"Thank you sir." Said the woman as she came and stood in the living room. She stood, wringing her hands together as she gazed at the two men with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry for intruding, but something terrible has happened."

"My dear child." Said Flotsam as he guided the distressed woman over to his chair. "Please, sit here and tell us what has happened."

Combs sat in another chair opposite the woman and gazed at her. He crossed his legs, rested his right elbow on his thigh and then rested his chin on his thumb while touching his index finger on the end of his nose.

"My name is Gwendolyn Osgood…!"

"One and only child of Squire Wilberforce Osgood and his good lady Wife, Bessie." Said Combs without changing position. "I know your family well. How are your parents?"

Gwendolyn fought to fight back fresh tears. "My poor Father is dead sir, murdered in his own home in the middle of the night."

Flotsam stepped forward with a stricken look on his face. "Egad Combs, what villainy is this?"

"Calm yourself Flotsam." Said Combs, his eyes never leaving Gwendolyn. "Tell me all that you know and leave out no detail, no matter how small or trivial. For once we have eliminated all that is probable, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must… give us a better picture of… what we're facing. So to speak. If you… know what I mean." He glanced up at Flotsam and turned quickly back to Gwendolyn. "So, details girl, give me details."

Gwendolyn also glanced at Flotsam before continuing. "I really have nothing to tell Mister Combs. I went to bed early last night and slept soundly. When I woke up this morning, I found his body in his study. He had a dagger in… in his neck." She covered her mouth as she began to sob.

Combs leaned forward. "I'm sorry, but I need details Miss Osgood. Describe the dagger to me."

"I.. I don't know, I didn't really look. It, it was a plain dagger really. There was something on the blade, some scratches I think. But the hilt was just plain black with an ordinary hand guard, nothing ornate or anything. I didn't really..!" She buried her face in her hands.

Flotsam put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I say combs, enough is enough, what!"

"Yes Flotsam, quite." Replied Combs thoughtfully. "Just one more thing. Have The Watch been informed?"

"Yes." Replied Gwendolyn. "There are two Watchmen with Mother now and more are on the way."

Combs nodded. "I dare say our dear Commander Vimes will be one of them. This being his 'manor' and all. Very well Miss Osgood, you run along home and pass on our condolences to your Mother and myself and Flotsam will be along presently."

"Yes, and thank you Mister Combs, Doctor Flotsam. Thank you both." Said Gwendolyn as she stood and made her way to the door.

When she had gone, Flotsam turned to Combs as he spoke. "The game is afoot Flotsam! Gather your things, we leave straight away. We have one stop to make before we go to the Osgood home."

Flotsam narrowed his eyes as he stared at Combs. "You know something already Combs, don't you?"

"All I know is, we can rule out the Assassin's Guild."

"How do you know that Combs?" Asked Flotsam as he put on his coat.

"Sedimentary my dear Flotsam."

Flotsam sighed. "Elementary Combs, elementary."

"Yes, quite. They wouldn't dream of using an 'ordinary' blade for an inhumation like this. In order to discover the 'who' in this mystery, we must first discern the 'why'."


	4. Chapter 4

Vimes reigned the cart over outside the Osgood home and the four Watchmen climbed out. "So, Carrot. Considering that 'I' was the one who told 'you' of the Osgood incident, how is it that 'you' knew that Nobby and Colon were here?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir!" Exclaimed Carrot without looking at Vimes.

Vimes' eyes turned towards Carrot while his head remained perfectly straight. "Out with it Captain."

Carrot sighed. "This is part of their beat sir."

"Their beat? There hasn't been a crime committed here since I moved here with Sybil."

"I know sir," replied Carrot, "that's 'why' it's their beat."

"Ah." Said Vimes, nodding his head sagely. He knocked on the door which was already open. "Bessie? It's Commander Vimes of the Watch."

An elderly woman appeared from around a corner. She was already wearing black, which was a stark contrast to her white hair which she had tied in a severe bun on the back of her head. In her hand she held a white handkerchief which she used to dab at her eyes. "Hello Sam, do come in. Today is no day for standing on ceremony."

"Of course." Replied Vimes solemnly. "I'm so sorry for what's happened Bessie. Know that I won't rest until we've caught those responsible. I've got my best men with me, we'll catch them. I promise."

"Thank you Sam. And I know you will, you always do. Please, come through into the parlour. We're all in there for now."

"I'll be there in a second Bessie." Replied Vimes as he indicated that Bessie should go on without him. Then he turned to the three Watchmen behind him. "Ok, Cheery. Scene of the crime, in the study, do your thing and don't let me down. Carrot, I want you and Angua outside checking for a point of entry. It will probably be the point of exit as well which may give us a clue as to where they went." He cocked an eyebrow at Angua. "And if I can find out what they had for breakfast this morning, I could probably pinpoint their movements for the day. Somebody would've had to have seen them at some point and, if we can get a description, we'll get this wrapped up all the quicker."

"Yes Commander." Replied Angua.

Vimes watched them leave and then went into the parlour, where he got a surprise.

"Vimes old man, how have you been?" Asked Combs. He was sitting opposite the door in the cheerful parlour with Flotsam on his left and Bessie on his right. Sitting on the arm of the chair that Bessie was sitting in was Gwendolyn who had an arm around her Mother's shoulders. Next to Gwendolyn, and just behind, were Nobby and Colon, both doing their best to hide their cups of tea.

After the briefest of hesitations, Vimes replied. "Combs, Doctor Flotsam." He said with a nod of his head. He walked into the room and stood in front of Bessie and her Daughter. "I know it's hard, but I'll need to ask the two of you some questions. I'm sorry it has to be so soon, but it's better to ask while the incident is still fresh in your minds."

"No need old boy." Interrupted Combs.

Vimes closed his eyes in an attempt to hold his temper. When he opened them again, he looked at the two Watchmen, both of whom had seen that look before and were valiantly trying to look inconspicuous in the hopes that their presence might soon be forgotten. Nobby was trying to hide behind Colon. "I will expect a full report off you two once we get back to the yard, and I mean 'full'."

"Yes sir!" Replied Colon almost instantly as he stood to attention.

"Sir!" Said Nobby. He stood rigidly to attention and the sound of his cup rattling around on its saucer sounded shrill in the silence that followed.

Vimes turned his attention to Combs. "And what are you doing here, sir?" He asked pointedly.

"I sent for him Sam." Said Bessie. "I just want to know what happened. Who could have done such a thing to poor Wilberforce?"

"That's why I'm here, Bessie." Said Vimes as gently as his irritation would allow.

"Then perhaps you'd like me to tell you, Commander." Said Combs as he stood up.

Vimes took two steps back and did his best not to glare. "Why don't you start by telling me just how you came to get here before we did?"

"Actually, your two brave Constables were here before me, Commander. Besides, Baker Alley is only across the river. Much closer than Pseudopolis Yard."

"Baker Alley eh? Nice." Said Vimes. He folded his arms and stared at Combs. "Alright Sheerluck, enlighten us."

Combs looked at Vimes and smiled a thin smile. "The man you are looking for, Commander, is a criminal mastermind. He is a genius, whose intellect is at least as powerful as my own."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find then." Said Vimes to Nobby and Colon, who both grinned.

If Combs noticed, he gave no indication as he was now in full swing, pacing backwards and forwards and his arms flailing around in emphasis. "He is a master of disguise, capable of standing in this very room while none of us noticed. As cunning as the wile fox, as vicious as an enraged… vicious thing. He is as deceitful and deceptive an adversary as you are ever likely to meet, Commander. And his name is…," Combs had reached a crescendo and now paused for dramatic effect with his finger held high in the air, "… Morris Phaarty!"

The dead silence that suddenly invaded the room was broken a moment later by a snigger. Vimes' head turned slowly to glare at Nobby.

"Sorry sir. It's just that, well.., it's a joke name innit? I mean…! Sorry sir." As Vimes turned back to Combs, Nobby leaned towards Colon and whispered. "I always thought Morris was a bloody hilarious name Fred."

"And what makes you think this 'Morris' character is the man we want?" Asked Vimes.

"Incrementally my dear Commander."

"Elementary!" Said the whole room in unison.

Combs ignored them all and continued. "I took the liberty of examining the scene of the crime, including the weapon used. Gwendolyn said she saw scratches on the blade, just below the guard. Indeed, there are scratches there. But those scratches are in the shape of a letter 'M', Morris' signature. You see Commander, Morris' weak point is his vanity. When he commits a crime, he likes people to know it was him."

"Then why is it he's never been arrested before?" Asked Vimes.

"As I said, old boy, he's very cunning."

Gwendolyn looked up at Combs. "But why? Why did he do this to poor father?"

Combs looked at Gwendolyn before turning back to Vimes. "I have my suspicions. Vimes, what do you know about the Klatchian Spice Road Treaty?"

"Enough to know that only a select few actually knew about it. How did you know?"

"It's my business to know old boy. It's how I make my living."

Vimes snorted derisively. "You make your living by sticking that over-sized beak of yours into places it doesn't belong."

Flotsam stood up, a look of outrage on his face. "Steady on there Vimes. That was uncalled for, what!"

"What?" Said Vimes.

"What?" Repeated Flotsam.

Vimes pointed a finger at Flotsam, and then at Combs, and back to Flotsam again. "Just… stay out the way. There is an official investigation going on by The Watch. Get in the way and I'll personally arrest the both of you, understand?"

Combs looked at Vimes and spoke in a perfectly calm voice. "I'm a fully licensed investigator, Commander. Sanctioned by the Patrician himself no less. Mrs Osgood has brought me in to investigate this case and investigate I will."

Vimes glared at Combs. "Get in the way and it's the Tanty for you. Both!" With that he turned to Nobby and Colon. "You two, with me!" Then he turned and stormed out of the room.

Outside, he swung around on the two Watchmen, who both reflexively stopped and stood to attention. "Get back to the yard, see what you can find on this Phaarty character. If we have nothing, get on the clax and see what they have down in Sto Lat, Uberwald, any place you can think of. Just get me something."

Nobby and Colon almost clubbed each other with their salutes, with Nobby using his wrong hand. As they both rushed away, Vimes' voice floated after them.

"And don't forget those reports."

Nobby and Colon saluted again, on the run.


End file.
